Cahill 1993, pp. 1132. 51. Hou Han shu (zhi), 5.312728; Bodde 1975, pp.75138. 52.

Zhou li 1987, 25.978, 29.1140, 1145. See also Zhang 1993, pp.19597. 53. Li ji, 6.154; Sterckx 2002, pp. 19, 4142. 54. Ersanzi wen, p. 424 (lines 67); translated by Shaughnessy 1996, p. 169. 55. Yilin, 12.20b, 13.15b. 56. Han shu, 27.1369, 27.1372, 27.144748, 27.139798, 27.1419, 27.1430, 27.1436, 27.1465, 27.1466, 27.1467, 27.1468, 27.1469. 57. Han shu, 27.137071. See also Han shu, 99B.4112. For a list of Western Han animal omens see Xi Han huiyao, 29.3015, 30.32325. 58. Hou Han shu, 60B.1999. 59. Han shu, 27.1419. For a similar example see Shuoyuan, 10.24748 (Jing shen). 60. Han shu, 27.1398, 27.1399, 27.146465, 27.1469; Han shi waizhuan, 2.38. 61. Han shu, 27.1353, 27.139798, 27.1470, 27.1474. 62. Yi lin, 1.19a; variant at 8.18ab. 63. Hou Han shu, 25.876. 64. Huainan 1992, 19.652 (Xiu wu). 65. Han shu, 27.1469. 66. Shi ji, 6.230; see also Lunheng, 3.121 (Gu xiang). For similar statements see Shi ji, 7.313, 44.1857, 69.2261; and Shuoyuan, 9.211 (Zheng jian).

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1. Mat weight: animals in combat. Cat. 3

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Crystallizing the Bleary Blur:

Bronze Mat Weights and the Emergence of New Plastic Thinking in the Western Han Dynasty Eugene C. Wang

Why are the animal images found in Han mat weights of special interest to us? In received art historical wisdom, Chinas celebrated Bronze Age had largely ended by the Han dynasty.1 The art of bronze that had begun in the Shang period, sometimes touted as the greatest of all arts, had, if we follow the inertia of teleological thinking, entered an endgame in the Han.2 Nor does the appearance of animals in bronzes amount to much of a novelty, since zoomorphism had been the dominant motif on Shang bronzes and there is no lack of precedent for fully articulated animal sculpture before the Han era.3 Why then do bronze mat weights, essentially miniature animal sculptures, warrant our attention? Before the Han dynasty, bronze images of animals came largely in the form of schematic zoomorphs (animal-like shapes), and hence have appeared purely ornamental to some observers. The shift toward representation, Max Loehr noted, occurred during the Han period. According to Loehrs evolutionary scheme, the beginning of representational art spelled the end of the bronze vessel and the art of ornament, and thus the

Han period was a watershed marking the transition from ornament to representation.4 Several animal mat weights featured in this exhibition epitomize this shift. Some retain the visual interest invested in surface ornament, as evidenced by geometric patterns of inlaid gold, silver, agate, and turquoise that adorn several pieces (fig. 1). Meanwhile, the plastic modeling gives the impression of a mass being wrested and freed from the straightjacketing grid of geometric patterns to take on full-bodied bestial forms. Felines, bears, and hybrid creatures come alive with palpable individual presence and energy, untethered, as it were, from rigid servitude to schematic regimentations. The most striking quality of these animal mat weights is their whimsical fluidity. Bodies twist and turn freely in unpredictable ways. While in some cases the body of an individual animal is unambiguously rendered, forms can also morph into a twisting mass of bodies whose identities merge. While diminutive, mat weights signal an emerging impulse towards freedom of modeling that breaks away from surface decoration. Mat weights depicting oxen from the late Eastern Zhou dynasty (4th to 3rd century BC) (fig. 2) display a perfect synergy between plastic modeling and surface decoration.5 The body of one recumbent ox is so fully covered with silver scroll patterns that the surface ornament seems to shackle the bovine body. The silver-inlaid decoration on another ox (fig. 3) resembles a bird whose body extends to the forequarters and whose

2. Ox mat weight, Warring States Period. Bronze with silver inlay, height 5.2 cm, length 10.9 cm. Miho Museum, Shiga

3. Mat weighs, Warring States Period. Bronze with silver inlay and black stones, height 5.7 cm, length 14.9 cm. Miho Museum, Shiga

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feathered tail tapers into a curvilinear motif. The inlaid decoration vaguely suggests musculature, thereby facilitating the articulation of the body. This synergy between plastic modeling and surface decoration is sustained only because the designer kept the two elements in sync, allowing neither to overpower the other. The graceful curve of the bovine body does not disrupt the carefully constructed static architectonic order of the decorative scheme. The sumptuous and intricate design of these miniature animals (see also cat. 00) reflects a refined courtly palette. This stands in sharp contrast to Western Han weights, especially as seen in the furiously swirling mass of a beast attacking another animal (fig. 1). The two animals are so tightly embroiled that their contorted bodies merge into a confusing whirl. Compounding this effect is the dizzying variety of surface patterns. The striations of the feline markings in gold and silver inlay, alternating with spots of glistening agate and turquoise, amount to a vibrant tapestry that both articulates musculature and upstages the voluminous plasticity of the sculpture. On the other hand, the victim of the attack features gold and silver inlays of interlaced foliage, familiar decorative motifs from early bronzes. The mat weights exhibit a degree of violence rarely observed in early Chinese plastic art. To some extent, the very representational content itself defines the nature of the change. The attacking beast epitomizes a refreshingly naturalistic and forceful plastic freedom; the victim of the attack has a more traditional decorative pattern. It seems that the victims

4. Four tigers attacking a yak, 3rd century BC. Gold, 12.7 x 7.4 cm. Excavated at Aluchaideng, Hangjin Banner, Ih Ju League (Inner Mongolia). National Museum of China, Beijing

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enacts the demise of courtly grace and ornamentation. There are some obvious prototypes for this new design. A pair of gold plaques found in a 3rd-century BC tomb at Aluchaideng in Inner Mongolia offer a good example of the kind of image motivated by an alternative artistic conception (fig. 4).6 The design shows ferocious tigers attacking a yak. The striped fur of the attacking beasts displays a fluidity and formal freedom that accentuates spontaneity in violent motion rather than the mannered formal intricacies common in the Central Plain designs. Designs of this sort, now recognized as typical of the nomadic people of northern steppes, show affinities to decorative traditions of regions as far as west as Kazakhstan.7 The mat weights depicting animal combats resonate both iconographically and formally with designs from the steppes. The affinity between the two images points to the new cultural landscape in early imperial China. During the reign of Emperor Wu (14186 BC), the Han empire greatly expanded its borders by launching expeditions, extending garrison lines, and establishing commanderies in new territories in the north and northwest, all in an attempt to repel Xiongnu raids from the north. The opening up of the Silk Road for trade with the West also put the Chinese in contact with foreign cultures.8 As exchanges with neighboring regions opened new horizons, it also exposed the Chinese to different artistic traditions. Epitomizing the influence of these new contacts is a set of stone sculptures connected with Huo Qubing (d. 116

BC), a commander of the imperial armies fighting the Xiongnu and other groups on the northern frontiers. Lining the spirit path to Huos tomb near Changan are stone sculptures that show a new cultural sensibility and plastic thinking. One work depicts a horse standing triumphantly over a subjugated soldier (fig. 5), while others represent a recumbent horse, a prostrating boar, and a crouching tiger (figs. 6, 7, 8). Whether or not they were intended to celebrate the commanders illustrious military career, the sculptures are monumental reminders of the northern landscape that was the generals arena. Much of their force derives from the decidedly reduced carving and modeling, which gives the sculptures an unfinished appearance. The raw and massive volume is preserved and indeed foregrounded. The sculpture of a boar is particularly unpolished. Little worked except for selective chiseling and some carving here and there, the stone retains its natural shape and texture, giving the impression of a bestial form emerging from raw stone. This new artistic conception recognizes the aesthetic effect of natural shapes. Art could be discovered rather than contrived, and forms could be coaxed from raw materials rather than painstakingly planned and worked. This aesthetic conception is also found in the naturalizing impulse of the gold plaques from the northern steppes. Both groups share an impulse towards freedom of modeling.

This formal impulse also propels the design of the fighting animals (fig. 1), although the materials and function of the mat weights differ radically from the outdoor

5. Standing horse, ca. 116 BC. Stone, height 168 cm, length 190 cm. From the tomb mound of Huo Qubing. Maoling (Shaanxi province) 6. Leaping horse, ca. 116 BC. Stone, height 150 cm, length 240 cm. From the tomb mound of Huo Qubing. Maoling (Shaanxi province) 7. Boar, ca. 116 BC. Length 163 cm, width 62 cm. From the tomb mound of Huo Qubing. Maoling (Shaanxi province) 8. Crouching tiger, ca. 116 BC. Length 200 cm, width 84 cm. From the tomb mound of Huo Qubing. Maoling (Shaanxi province)

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funerary stone sculptures. The mat weights display the same disposition toward natural modeling premised upon the contingencies of the dramatic situation, in this case, the unpredictable and volatile animal fight. The restless bodies dictate contours and shape. Masses dissolve into contour lines cued by the coiling decorative motifs on the surface. It is as if the sculptor struggled with a painterly urge to reduce the mass into undulating surface streaks. The result is a complex form that claims our attention on two levels simultaneously: a twirling full-fledged mass on the one hand and a conglomeration of surface contours and lines on the other. The new plastic impulse interacts with the traditional preference for schematic decoration and surface effect. Moreover, two types of decorative schemes are in play: the naturalizing striations on the attacking beast and the schematic ornamentation on the victim. The battle between the animals is thus a formal one as well: free sculptural modeling here threatens to tear apart the intricate surface decoration. Although surface decoration was on its way out, the inlays of gold, silver, agate, and turquoise (seen in the fighting animals) nevertheless command attention. The inlay technique was not a Han invention, as silver inlays can be found on Shang and Zhou bronze vessels.9 From the fifth to third centuries BC, inlaid designs of gold, silver, and semiprecious stones were a popular mode of bronze decoration in various regions of China.10 The mat weights depicting fighting animals occupy the final phase of this tradition. Unlike the rigid patterns of earli-

er designs, the decoration here is looser. Gold and silver striations depict the natural fur stripes of the attacking feline. In contrast to the earlier style of stiff geometric decoration, the pattern on the attacking tigers body has the quality of freehand passages of a painters brush. Drawing on the designs of painted lacquers of southern regions, inlaid bronzes here feature sweeping, free-flowing curves and spiraling tendrils.11

Han perceptions
The perceptions and sensibilities of Han viewers are instructive here. In the middle of the second century BC, King Gong (r. 154129/128 BC) of Lu in eastern China built a sumptuous palace called the Hall of Numinous Brilliance, located in Qufu southeast of the Confucius temple. The interior of the palace was decorated with dazzling arrays of figured filigrees and murals. Three centuries later, Wang Yanshou (fl. 163), an impressionable and gifted young man from southern China, visited the palace and left an eloquent ekphrasis of the carvings and paintings he saw there: Flying birds and running beasts, Are given form by the wood. Prowling tigers, clawing and clasping in vicious clenches, Raise their heads in a furious frenzy, manes bristling. Curly dragons leap and soar, twist and twine, Their jowls seeming to move as they limp and lumber along.

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The Vermilion Bird, with outspread wings, perches on the cross-beams; The Leaping Serpent, coiling and curling, winds round the rafters, The White Deer heaves its head among the brackets, A coiling wyvern, writhing and wriggling, clings to the lintels, The wily hare creeps and crouches beside the cap blocks, Gibbons and monkeys climb and clamber in mutual pursuit. Black bears, tongues protruding, fangs bared, Draw back, hunching and hunkering from their heavy loads. With leveled heads they gaze and glance, Gaping and goggling, glaring and glowering. What is striking about this account is the endless evocation of the theme of dynamic locomotion and the kindred kinesthetic manners of a variety of animals: flying, running, clawing, clasping, bristling, leaping, and so forth. Equally notable is Wangs recognition of the artistic medium: flying birds and running beasts / are given form by the wood, which is to say, the wonder stems in part from how plain wood could yield all these forms, and how the craftsman could tease shapes out the material. Wang then reflects on the craftsmanship of painting:

Here they have painted Heaven and Earth, Multiform beings of every type and kind: Various creatures wondrous and strange, Mountain demons, sea spirits. They have sketched and preserved their forms, Conferring them to vermeil and blue. A thousand changes, ten thousand transformations, Each thing distinctly described. Following set colors to image each kind, They perfectly capture their essence. The primary visual interest is not so much the specific depiction of the distinct traits of individual creatures as it is the overriding force of transformation that the art of painting is capable of capturing. Individual specificity is subsumed under a unifying force. Not surprisingly, after sustained gazing at the images, Wang Yanshou felt some dizziness: Suddenly all is a bleary blur, vaguely visualized, As the shadowy likeness of ghosts and spirits.12 In viewing the carvings and paintings, the Han beholder experienced two separate phases of cognitive sensation: he first recognized the specific animals depicted, and then experienced an optical vagueness that subsumed the individual forms under an all-encompassing bleary blur. This is precisely the complex sensation and mixed mode of perception discernment and blur that the designs of fighting animals (figs. 1, 9) might have elicited from contemporary viewers.

9. Mat weight: animals in combat. Cat. 3

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Miniature animal weights register and crystallize endless formal metamorphosis as well as the perceptual habits of the Han period eye. To further appreciate the taste for what Wang Yanshou called the thousand changes, ten thousand transformations that governed the depiction of animals, we can read the text in tandem with an analysis of the cast decoration on a Western Han bronze vessel (fig. 10). Set against a panoramic backdrop of swirling mountain ridges and clouds is a dizzying variety of animals, identified as deer (some winged), qilin [mythical hoofed creatures], bears, hares and hounds, huge birds, lions winged and otherwise, tortoises, dragons, elephants and winged chimera creatures encountered in no known landscape but rather in the mythical world of the Classic of Mountains and Sea.13 They prance, frolic, leap, and chase one another through heaving mountain ridges and coiling clouds. In some ways, the busy design taxes our form-discriminating eye; the contours of the prancing animals resonate and harmonize with those of the mountains and clouds to such an extent that they are hard to distinguish. Living creatures and landscape blend into restless dynamic swirls and undulations. Individual features appear as accidental accretions that possess little ontological distinction in their own right, for they quickly dissolve into something else in this world of constant flux and transformation. It comes as no surprise that that Han beholder felt dazed after a sustained effort to distinguish and identify individual features. Informing this new formal fluidity was a cosmic vision

premised on a unifying, all-generating primal force that had been gaining ground since the late Warring States Period (475221 BC). The cosmos was seen as permeated with an all-pervasive pneuma (qi), the basic primordial element that readily engenders and metamorphoses into various kinds of organisms and material entities. The pneuma of balanced earth, says one second-century BC writer, is received into the yellow heaven, which after 500 years engenders jade. This newly formed entity is in turn capable of turning into gold, a dragon, springs, a cloud, lightning, a sea, blue-green malachite, lead, a dragon again, and so on indefinitely.14 All the things and beings in this cosmogonic scheme are susceptible to constant change. Living species are not only interchangeable among themselves, but also with inanimate objects.15 What is striking about this cosmic picture of endless transformations is the morphing of one type of material into another from the pneuma to earth, jade, gold, water, malachite, etc. while specific animals (for example, the dragon) are being shaped in the process. Han texts like this therefore provide the best caption for the mat weight of the fighting animals in this exhibition: the inlays of gold, silver, agate, and turquoise are but consecutive stages in this metamorphosis. The categorical conflation and continuity between living creatures and natural geology, topography, and landscape is manifested in the bleary blur that engulfs animal forms and the materials used to depict them. The

10. Vessel with relief of animals and mountains, Western Han, ca. 100 BC. Bronze, height 17.8 cm, width 25.4 cm. Freer Gallery of Art, Washington

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geological and zoomorphic domains were, in the ancient Chinese imagination, more intimately interrelated than in our modern taxonomic sensibility. The Rites of Zhou (Zhou li), a text probably of the 3rd-century BC, speaks of a picture of all the lands under heaven commanded by the Grand Overseer of Public Affairs.16 This picture encompasses both geographic configurations and animal species. The topography is divided into five strata, each matched with a corresponding class of creatures: 1. the mountain forest yields creatures with fine hair, 2. rivers and waters produce scaly creatures, 3. hills and mounts spawn feathered creatures, 4. graves and puddles generate armored creatures, 5. marshlands give rise to furry beasts.17 The text suggests that classification of topographic features is in essence also the cataloguing of associated animal species. Just as the topographic and biological domains are closely related, the different classes within each domain are also believed to be susceptible to mutual metamorphosis. The mutability of form that transcends and encompasses perceptual categories became an organizing principles in art. While the dearth of surviving treatises and manuals limits our ability to reconstruct the process of imagemaking, texts associated with music offer glimpses into the creative process. The Rites of Zhou contains a description of ancient sacrificial offerings in which variation of musical tunes evoked the presence of animals, spirits, and topographies: In the Six Melodies, playing the first variation (bian)

would summon feathered creatures and the spirits of rivers and streams; the second variation, short-haired animals and spirits of mountain forests; the third variation, scaled creatures and the spirits of hills and mountains; the fourth variation, furry animals and the spirits of tombs and puddles; the fifth variation, shelled creatures and spirits of earth; while the six variation would reach the Directional Animals and the heavenly deity.18 This practice appears to be premised upon the formal principle of repetition and variation. One may imagine a set of different topographic scenes, but such imaginary constructs would be based on an almost identical tune, which would provide the basis for variations or inflections. This principle can also be applied to gauging visual design: undulating lines provide the basis for generating variations, and out of this formal matrix emerge both topographic and zoomorphic forms. Or, in Wang Yanshous period terms, a thousand changes and ten thousand transformations give form to each thing distinctly described although this later breaks down into a bleary blur, vaguely visualized. It is interesting to compare the musical evocation of animals in the Rites of Zhou with instructions to woodcarvers, found in the same text, concerning the decorative design of stands and suspension bars used to hang ritual bells and chimes. Of the five types of animals those with firm layers of fat (oxen and sheep), those with soft fat (pigs), naked ones (tigers and leopards), feathered creatures (birds), and scaly species (dragons and

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snakes) the last three are favored for decorative motifs, presumably because of their propensity for dynamic movement, among other factors. In modeling animal images, the text continues, special attention should be given to their bone structures and manners of locomotion, such as backtracking, moving sideways, continuous motion, and zigzagging.19 Therefore, to the early Chinese eye, the visual interest in animals derives from their forms as seen in dynamic movement. Tortuous undulation and curvilinear forms best capture these effects. Both the fanciful lacquer paintings from the south and the design from the northern steppes represent the sources for this change in direction. This brings us again to the affinity between the gold plaque from Aluchaideng and the mat weight depicting fighting animals (figs. 1, 4). While we need to acknowledge that steppe designs may have been important as a source, belaboring the issue of influence obscures the full implications of these objects. Western Han responses to, and appropriation of, foreign models served cultural interests. While the theme of animal combat is shared by the two designs, the Han weight is textured with more colorful inlaid patterns. Its conjugation of free plastic modeling with surface decoration may indicate a transitional phase in which the two coexisted. There is, however, more to this duality. The mat weight of an animal fight shows affinities to a chariot ornament decorated with gold, silver, turquoise, and gemstones excavated from the early 1st century BC tomb at Sanpanshan (fig. 11). The chariot ornament is divided into four registers,

11. Chariot ornament, Western Han, early 1st century BC. Bronze inlaid with gold, silver, and precious stones. From Tomb 122, Sanpanshan, Dingxian (Hebei province). At right, schematic diagram of the decoration.

centered respectively on a yellow dragon preceded by an elephant, an archer shooting at a tiger, a crane leading a camel, and a huge bird surrounded by dancing birds and animals.20 The moving animals are subsumed into a

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sweeping force of curvilinearism, suggesting the imaginary shape of the pneuma that gives unity to the myriad objects and beings in the cosmos. The variety and exotic flavor of the animals epitomize the cultural climate under Emperor Wu, a period of growing interest in auspicious omens and the pursuit of immortality. As a worldview connecting humans with the heavens gained ground under Emperor Wu, there was an accompanying fascination with searching natural phenomena for indication of divine will in response to the human political climate. Anomalous signs, including the appearance of strange animals and plants, were taken as auspicious omens signaling heavenly approval of earthly governance. For this purpose, a large fenced imperial park was created around 138 BC. Exotic animals and birds collected through military expeditions, trade, and foreign tributes were placed in this wondrous park. The park boasted unicorns from India, heavenly steeds from Turkestan, rhinoceroses from Thailand, and ostriches from Persia. The enchanting atmosphere of this magic land may also have induced visitors to imagine that they were in the immortal realm.21 Oddity and preciousness were primary features of auspicious signs.22 Gemstones and colorful inlaid designs, by virtue of their rarity and exotic flavor, filled the bill perfectly. Although the use of such precious materials and techniques in bronzes was not unprecedented, Western Han design was marked by bold juxtaposition and the weaving of these materials into a brilliant and dazzling

tapestry. This seems to confirm that the five-colored patterns were expected on exotic birds and animals.23 The mat weights of fighting animals epitomizes the emergence of a free mode of sculptural thinking in Chinese representational art, which existed in dramatic tension with an older interest in surface ornamentation. While the rise of this new visual sensibility may have occurred at the expense (and spelled the demise) of surface decoration, the short-lived co-existence and conflation of the two modes need not be conceived as a zerosum game. As the free modeling of sculptural bodies registered a new cultural sensibility in an age of territorial expansion and broadened cognitive horizons, so the surface decoration of objects spoke to the Western Han culture of auspicious omens and a new interest in schematizing nature. It is perhaps inevitable that this tension-filled genre did not last long. It is just as significant that the free plastic form exemplified by fully articulated but also confused bodies also seems to have had a short lifespan. Energetic animal forms are rarely seen afterwards. While the reasons for this are obscure, this is all the more reason to savor a unique moment in the history of Chinese art, a moment condensed into the miniature forms of animal-shaped mat weights. Designed to hold down domestic furnishings, these mat weights hold our historical imagination in ways far beyond their original function.

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1. So 1980, p. 311; So 1980a, p. 326. Kwang-chih Chang (Chang 1980, p. 40) argued that the use of iron to cast implements in the sixth century BC challenged the dominance of bronze that had lasted for the previous millennium and a half. He therefore considered the period circa 500 BC to be the end of the Bronze Age in China. 2. The remark comes from Alfred F. Pillsbury, a noted collector, as cited by Max Loehr in New York 1968, p. 11. 3. Notable examples include the free-standing bronze quadrupeds in the Freer Gallery of Art, Washington (Washington 1982, pp. 7779). 4. New York 1968, p. 12. This view is widely shared; see also Jenny Sos discussion of the Rise of the representational art in New York 1980, p. 309. 5. The oxen in the Miho Museum are remarkably similar in design and dimensions to the crouching ox with silver inlay in the National Museum of China; see Beijing 1997, vol. 2, p. 17, fig. 11. 6. The tombs, discovered by chance in 1972, are located at Aluchaideng, in Hangjin Banner on the northern rim of the Maowusu desert. They yielded 218 gold items and some silver objects. See Bunker 1997, p. 49; Beijing 1997, vol. 2, p. 55. 7. Bunker 1997, p. 51. 8. Twitchett and Loewe 1978, pp. 16370. 9. New York 1980, p. 376. 10. For a full account of the historical development, see So 1980. Sos account is amended by some Chinese archaeologists in Summary of comments on the catalogue from the Committee for the Preparation of Exhibition of Archaeological Relics, Peoples Republic of China in New York 1980, p. 376. 11. So 1980, p. 308. 12. Wenxuan, 11.51315. Translation from Knechtges 1982, vol. 2, pp. 27173.

13. Sullivan 1962, p. 57. 14. Huainan 1989, 4.15658; Major 1993, pp. 21213; Wang 2005, p. 187. 15. See Sterckx 2002, pp. 123204. 16. See Loewe 1993, pp. 2829. 17. Zhou li 1987a, 3.97. A slightly different fivefold classification appears in Huainan. See Major 1993, pp. 20911. 18. Zhou li 1987a, 6.23132. 19. Zhou li 1987a, 11.46263. Sterckx 2002, p. 128. 20. For a detailed study of this chariot ornament, see Wu 1984. 21. Wu 1995, pp. 17273. 22. Wu 1995, p. 172. 23. Han shu, p. 1609. Wu 1995, p. 173.

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Catalogue

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